


Mismatched

by TeamThor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Crying, Hugs, Hurt Thor (Marvel), M/M, Men Crying, Mild Blood, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Sad with a Happy Ending, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 11:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18409817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamThor/pseuds/TeamThor
Summary: Post infinity war.So much has happened, so much has changed, that Thor can barely recognise himself anymore.And Bruce? Well, Bruce knows what that's like.





	Mismatched

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So I got this idea from @woahthisguy on Tumblr, where I'm also posting a lot of my works so there's that.  
> I've been doing a lot of thorhulk so now it's time for brucey!

Bruce was no stranger to waking up at odd hours. He suspected it was something left over from a childhood stained with spilt whiskey and blood, he was up and ready to run at the slightest movement.  
He supposed that's why he began to move towards consciousness the second the mattress next to him shifted. He wasn't fully awake, not yet, but his brain was already telling him that something was wrong.  
His hand wandered out across the mattress, looking for the reassuring mass of Thor's muscular chest to set him to rights. Searching for the routine that was only a couple of weeks old, really, but already seemed so natural.  
He'd wake up in the middle of the night, probably after some nightmare, and reach out his hand to brush against Thor's. It must've been on instinct, because Thor was an incredibly deep sleeper, but Thor would always pull Bruce back to him. He'd fall asleep, cradled in warm arms, and finally feel just that little bit safer. 

His eyes opened when his hand met the cold absence of an empty space. Thor's side of the bed was a mess of rumpled sheets, a pattern left over from a night of sleepless tossing and turning.  
A quick glance to their bedside clock showed the time illuminated in glowing LED numbers- 3AM. 

He blinked slowly, catching sight of pale blue light spilling out from under the en suite door. He breathed a sigh of relief he didn't realise he'd been holding, and made to turn back onto his side, when something stopped him.  
It was the sound of crying, pained gasps muffled by fabric, shaking breaths pulled through a hand clamped against the mouth. Crying, but with a determined desperation to stay quiet. 

Bruce knew that sound. 

His brows creased in worry as he stood from the bed, wincing at the feeling of cold floorboards under his bare feet, and started towards the bathroom. His hands wandered out to snatch at his glasses on the way, calloused fingers rubbing at his eyes under the lenses as he leant against the door, lifting worn knuckles against the wood in a quiet knock. 

The sniffling stopped abruptly, leaving nothing but the distant sound of machinery turning beneath the compound to fill the cold silence, which was somehow worse than the sobbing ever was. 

"Thor? You in there?" Bruce swallowed nervously, his throat drying when he realised he hadn't actually thought this through. 

He knew Thor had been through a lot, definitely more than he'd told Bruce. He'd had to fill in the blanks between the Statesman and Wakanda from the talking racoon, which should have been exciting. He'd wanted to learn about space forges, about weapons crafted from harnessing star energy, about the guardians and who the hell those guys were.  
Instead he'd gotten a morbid tale about dead Asgardians, broken necks, and third degree burns lining the gaps in Thor's armour.  
He'd gotten a story about Thor's people being massacred in front of him within the span of a day. Bruce couldn't help but stare after that. At every smile the demigod gave, at every helping hand he'd leant, behind all of it, Bruce knew that the breaking point for Thor was getting closer. 

Thor, as it turned out, was not nearly as vocal about things as he thought. Or at least about things that mattered. He was loud, and by all accounts that alone should have thrown Bruce off years ago, but with that loudness came optimism. Love. The biggest heart he'd ever seen that would stay up with Bruce until stupid o'clock in the morning just to talk about science and the stars.  
That same heart was now locked inside the bathroom, trying not to let Bruce hear him cry. 

Bruce sighed, resting his forehead against the door before he spoke again. Softly, barely above a whisper, really. But Thor needed to do this. They both needed to do this.  
"So, I'm gonna come in now. And I'd really appreciate it if you didn't electrocute me, or give me any of that 'Im fine' bullcrap. Because we both know you're not, and I just want to help. Okay?" 

Bruce honestly didn't expect a response, and was in the middle of calculating how much money he'd owe Tony if he broke down one of his doors before he heard a resounding click of a lock being opened.  
The bathroom door swung slightly, and Bruce felt his breath catch in his throat. 

Thor was sitting on the floor, back against the cabinet, with blood dripping from his still-sparking knuckles. The bathroom mirror was splintered, shards of glass shattered all over the sink, with faint speckles of red pressed into the leftover crevice.  
Bruce drew in a breath, really regretting not wearing slippers at this point, and stepped into the bathroom. 

"Jesus, Thor, what happened?" He knelt down beside the demigod, taking Thor's hand in his, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of the splinters of glass still stuck. 

"My eyes don't match."  
Thor's voice was tight, the deep tones disturbed with a faint tremor that echoed the shaking in his hands. 

Bruce furrowed his brows in confusion, pulling Thor upwards, gently, until he was seated on the edge of the bath. He silently reached for a pair of tweezers, bringing Thor's hand a little closer to the bathroom light so he could actually inspect the injury instead of just holding his hand. 

"What do you mean?" Bruce kept his voice quiet, glancing only briefly at Thor's face as he began to work. 

"I just...I just woke up, and I just wanted to see how it looked, because Rabbit didn't have any mirrors, and..."  
Thor broke off, his voice cracking with emotion as he finally looked up at Bruce, like a drowning man watching a lifeboat.  
"I didn't even recognise my own face." 

"Oh." Bruce set down the tweezers, opting to sit down next to Thor, making the bathroom a little less cramped.  
Thor was, and chances were always would be a physical being. He hugged when he was happy, lashed out when he wasn't. And right now, he most definitely wasn't.  
Bruce gently reached up towards Thor's face, directing his mismatched eyes back towards his.  
"Why didn't you say something?"

Thor sniffed slightly, twisting his head out of Bruce's grasp to stare at a dark corner of the bathroom.  
"Half the universe just died, Bruce. And this?"  
He scoffed slightly, bringing his hand up to wipe just a little too violently at the side of his face.  
"This won't change anything. I don't deserve-"

"Okay, okay, stop." Bruce stood up, a difficult feat in the small bathroom but he succeeded nonetheless. He placed his hands on either side of Thor's face, trying to get the demigod to at least look at him, wiping away the tears that were quickly gathering with his thumbs. He knew he couldn't fix this with words. The damage ran deeper than the colour of Thor's eyes. His foundations had been torn from him, his people slaughtered and scattered amongst the stars. 

Of course he wasn't fine. 

"Thor, look at me." Bruce knelt down in front of him, waiting until the God finally looked up at him, face half bathed in shadows from the dim light of the bathroom.  
"You deserve to mourn. You're allowed to feel things, god knows you've earned it by now. I know it, and so does everyone else. But you can't keep this bottled inside of you."  
Bruce sighed, leaning forward until his forehead touched Thor's.  
"Please. Don't shut me out." 

The bathroom was silent, once again. Bruce felt Thor's hands touch his wrists, his face, until finally he leant forward enough to press his face into Bruce's shoulder, and he held on tight.  
The broad shoulders shook under the strain of the sobbing, and Bruce did the only thing he could do.  
He held him tighter.  
The sound of Thor crying broke his heart. To see the man he loved broke down so far, it definitely stung. But it was a far cry better than muffled whimpers from behind a closed door.  
Because this?  
The sobbing, the sound of rain hammering against the windows, the feeling of fists clutching Bruce's shirt like a lifeline?  
This was Thor. 

Open, emotional, and beautiful. 

Bruce rubbed reassuring circles onto Thor's back, and when the crying stopped, he didn't let go. Instead, he led Thor out of the bathroom, over the shards of glass, and back into the warmth of their bed. White bandages were pressed over bruised and bloody knuckles, tears were wiped away by the cuff of Bruce's sleeve.  
The weather quietened to a calm shower, and then to nothing at all as Thor slept evenly, huddled against Bruce's chest. 

There was still a lot of healing to do, for everyone. And he knew this wouldn't be the last time his shirt got damp with Thor's tears, nor could he promise that this situation wouldn't flip.  
But Thor would be there when it did.  
And he would be there when it didn't.


End file.
